


write on me

by convenientmisfires



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Tattoo Parlor, Anal, F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Tattoos, pegging (mentioned)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 05:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9704651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/convenientmisfires/pseuds/convenientmisfires
Summary: Pike teases Kane for not having a tattoo. He goes to see "the Doc" in an attempt to get over his fears and gets more than he bargained for.ORThe Kellabby Tattoo Parlor AU You Didn't Ask For





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ChancellorGriffin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChancellorGriffin/gifts).



> to set the mood, there is both this fanmix: https://open.spotify.com/user/samcaseys/playlist/2OzCFDGkivUlvJma59D8Wy and this pintrest board: https://www.pinterest.com/samcaseys/au/

“Chicken.”

“What did you just call me?” Marcus Kane’s head swivels around so quickly you’d have thought it might fly off if it wasn’t attached. 

“I said you’re a chicken, you big baby.” Charles Pike laughs as he puts away his helmet, his bike lined up next to Marcus’, Lexa’s and Lincoln and Indra’s who’d arrived earlier this morning, outside the community center they’ve taken over for Lexa’s campaign. 

Lexa smirks as Pike continues to rib Kane over his contentious fear of needles. The subject had come up one night when strategizing the previous Friday evening had devolved into drinking and telling war stories of the scars and ink on each of their bodies. 

Kane had his fair share of scars, but not a single tattoo unlike the rest of them. 

“I am not a chicken. I just don’t see the point in sticking a needle in my skin for fun. Nothing wrong with that.” Kane rolls his eyes at his friend who hasn’t let the subject drop all weekend. 

“It makes you feel alive Kane, gives you a reminder of the things you love and stand for every time you wake up.” Pike had spoken passionately about his own ink: a tattoo for his mother, another for his children, and a compass to remind him to always look for true north.  

“Besides, it’s not like getting a shot!” 

Kane snorts as he sits his work down at his desk across the room, “yeah shots, while horrible and primitive actually provide medical help. A tattoo means getting stabbed over and over and risking infection.”

“You’ll come around one day,” Pike tosses out in a knowing tone that grates against Kane and makes him just a touch uncomfortable in the idea that he might be right.

* * *

 

Noon rolls around and Marcus is too buried in phone calls and emails to party members and grassroots organizers to notice that lunch has arrived. 

“Yes...happy to hear it Madame Secretary, we’re thrilled to have your endorsement, you of course have ours in return. New York wouldn't be the same without you.”

Lexa leans against his desk with his sub sandwich and a megawatt smile as he finishes the phone call and hangs up. 

“I’ll be lucky if I’m not shaking like a leaf next to her tomorrow.” 

“You’ll do fine, Lexa. You were born for this.” Kane’s words comforting her in their sincerity. No one’s ever believed in her quite like he has, he’s the one that convinced her to run for Congress, and he makes her believe she can actually win this thing. 

“Thank you, Kane.”

Lexa hesitates by the edge of his desk

“Something on your mind?” Kane asks her, giving her an opening. 

“Listen, I heard Pike giving you a hard time earlier. I’m not going to tell you you have to get inked to be on the team or anything, but if you ever want to seriously consider it, you should go see the Doc.”

Lexa pulls a worn business card out of her billfold. 

“I’ve gotten all my work done at Arkadia, they’ll take good care of you there. Lincoln’s girlfriend, Octavia works for them, she does piercings, I think.”

Marcus turns the card over in his hand, the sleek simple design catching his eye, keeping his attention. 

“Thanks Lexa, we’ll see.”

He leaves the card out on his desk the rest of the day, glancing back at it from time to time. When night falls and it’s finally time to go home he picks up the card and turns off the lamp on his desk, brushing his fingers over the raised name of this mysterious ‘Doc’ that Lexa has so much faith in. 

He takes it home with him.

* * *

 

Two weeks later he finds himself sitting outside Arkadia, it’s a small brick building tucked into a cozy neighborhood downtown. It’s the kind of place you’d only hear about from someone who’d lived and breathed New York their entire life. 

An apartment upstairs, a little pub next door, and a colorful sign hung on the brick above the wood and glass doors that lead inside. 

“Just go in you big baby, they aren’t going to start poking you the minute you walk in.” 

_ Oh great _ , he thinks.  _ Now you look like the crazy person talking to themselves outside a tattoo parlor _ . 

His first thought when he walks in is that they’re all babies. Babies covered in tattoos and piercings, but they all just look so  _ young _ . Despite their age, the work they’re doing appears to have flawless quality. The entire parlor seems alive, pristine, and welcoming in a way that somehow puts his nerves at ease, if only by a fraction. 

There’s a bright, baby-faced blonde rendering an astronaut’s helmet filled with orange flowers into the sleeve of a woman he assumes is named Raven; the geometric bird inked onto her back matching the one next to the name above her piercing station. 

Behind the counter there’s a young man with dark shaggy hair and sun kissed skin and a body that looks like it was carved from marble.  _ Trouble, he looks like trouble _ , Marcus thinks to himself, momentarily unable to tear his eyes away from the boy’s golden arms, and large gentle-looking hands. 

“Kane! You’re here!” Octavia, the one face he recognizes as the fiercely intimidating, badass with a heart of gold who’s dating his PR strategist, walks over to him from her station.  

She startles him out of his dangerous thoughts, the barest hint of a blush creeping up his neck. 

“Octavia, hi!” He shakes the girl’s hand and she pulls him in for a brief hug. 

“Lexa told me you might turn up! Have you met my brother?” Octavia gestures toward the greek god behind the counter, and yep now Marcus can definitely feel his face flushing. 

“No, I don’t believe we’ve met.” Marcus covers the redness in his face with a cough as Octavia goes to introduce them.

“Bell! Come say hi to my friend!” She walks over and flicks her brother in the ear, pulling him out of the book he’s reading. One of the classics Marcus thinks as he sets the worn hardback down behind the counter. 

“Hi there, I’m Bellamy.” Bellamy’s voice is low and gravely, a baritone that isn’t helping Marcus clear his thoughts at all. He extends his hand in greeting, his grip soft and strong all at once. 

“Nice to meet you Bellamy. I’m Marcus,” he thinks he notices a flush on Bellamy’s neck as he lets go of the boy’s hand. “Marcus Kane. Can I assume you’re the ‘Doc’ Lexa told me to see?”

Bellamy’s smile is both bashful and sinful by turns, “I can’t say that I am. You’re looking for Abby.”

Marcus realizes he really needs to stop assuming things and silently thanks his Peruvian heritage for the olive skin currently hiding his ever increasing blush. 

“HEY DOC, SOMEONE’S HERE TO SEE YOU.” Bellamy shouts toward the back of the building where there are what Marcus assumes are offices, as well as a staircase that leads to the apartment above. 

A tiny woman in ripped jeans and a nearly translucent flowing white v-neck shirt walks down the stairs. Her hair is damp and curling around her neck in thick, long tendrils. Ink trails its way up her strong arms in intricate black lines, laced with pops of color as watercolor flowers peek out from between anatomical bones and hearts. 

_ Double trouble _ , Marcus thinks as he tears his eyes away from the black lace peaking out of the v of her shirt and the ink trailing across her collarbones. 

“Who’s the straight?” She asks, smirking in jest as she walks up behind Bellamy and places a hand on his shoulder. 

“I mean, I wouldn’t go directly to _straight_...” he mumbles under his breath. “Wait, Abby? Abby Griffin? Is that you?” 

Marcus recognizes the telltale downturn of her mouth and those eyes he hasn’t forgotten in 23 years. They’d lost touch after college, last he’d heard she was working in the nicest hospital in the city, chief surgeon or something. He glances back over his shoulder at the blonde he’d noticed when he first walked in, now unmistakably Jake Griffin’s daughter. 

“Marcus? What are you doing here? What’s it been? 20 years? I almost didn’t recognize you.” She walks around Bellamy and runs her hands through his beard before pulling him into her for a quick hug.  _ Of course _ , he thinks,  _ she’s never seen you with a beard _ . 

“I could say the same about you.” He gestures to her now tattoo covered arms. “Since when do you own a tattoo parlor? That doesn’t seem like the pre-med major I used to know.”

“I bought the place a few years ago after Jake passed away,” he moves to apologize but she brushes it off. 

“Clarke wanted to put her art degree to a more practical use, and I needed a change of scenery so we opened up shop and have been taking in strays like these two ever since.” She ruffles Octavia’s hair and leans her hip against Bellamy’s thigh, something intimate in the way they’re comfortable with each other. 

“So what can we do for you?” 

He feels infinitely more confident knowing that it’s Abby’s hands he’s in here. He’ll have to remember to thank Lexa on Monday. 

“Well I wanted to see if I could set up a consultation, I think I’d like to get a tattoo.” 

“Do you have time now?” 

Marcus glances at his watch, but it’s Friday evening and he doesn’t have to be anywhere until tomorrow morning for the pancake breakfast the campaign is hosting. 

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

“Do you mind if Bellamy joins us? He’s apprenticing with me and I’ve learned he has an eye for things I miss sometimes.” Abby squeezes Bellamy’s shoulder and Marcus notices the look they share.  _ When did that happen? _ He wonders. 

“No, of course not.”

Bellamy grabs a sketch book and the three of them walk behind the brick partition to a sitting area with black leather couches, a soft white rug, and greenery scattered everywhere. 

“So tell us about yourself.” Abby leans back watching him as he settles in.

Marcus tells them everything. He starts with Lexa, telling them about the campaign and why he believes in her and he name drops too of course,  _ oh yeah we were just at that rally with Hillary _ . But then he moves on, he tells them about his childhood, things Abby hadn’t known in college. All the while Bellamy’s pencil scratches against his sketchbook. Marcus tells them about his mother, about the influence she had on him both before and after her passing. He mentions the tree that they’d grown together, and her garden and how she spoke of eden and of hope. He tells them about his hope for a brighter future and the faith he has in the people around him.

“I think we have everything we need,” Abby says as Marcus comes to a natural stopping point in his own story. 

He looks away from the two of them for the first time in as many hours and notices the sun has fallen low on the horizon. 

“I didn’t realize it was getting so late, I’m sorry for eating up your afternoon.” Marcus stands and tries to glance inside the sketchbook in Bellamy’s lap but the boy closes it before he gets a good look. 

“No peeking,” Marcus swears Bellamy winks at him. “And really, it’s no trouble, the fun’s just getting started.”

_ Yeah, that was definitely a wink. _

“We’ll give you a call in a few days when we have a design for you and we can set up your appointment after you see it. How does that sound?” Abby looks at him with bright eyes and a smile.

“Perfect.” 

“I’ll walk you out.” Abby follows him to the door and Bellamy takes his sketchbook back to the counter, leaning his hip against the surface as he watches the two of them. 

“It’s good to see you, Marcus.” And for the second time that day Marcus finds himself in her arms. 

“You too, Abby,” he says into her hair and it’s far too intimate for two people who haven’t seen each other in over twenty years. 

His hands drag against her sides as she steps out of his embrace, and he waves back at Bellamy before walking out to his car. 

_ He’s definitely in trouble. _

* * *

 

He actually runs into them before he gets their phone call. The entire gang shows up to the pancake breakfast for Lexa’s campaign. Abby picks up a button and pins it to her denim jacket while Octavia and Raven see who can get the most pancakes on their plates. 

Abby smiles at Marcus from across the room and shows him her button. He gives her a thumbs up and smiles as she and Bellamy come toward him to get their own completely reasonable stacks of pancakes. 

“Hi,” he’s completely thrown to see them all here and he struggles to come up with something intelligent to say. 

“Hi,” Bellamy says cheerily. He seems to be far more of a morning person than Abby is, already pouring herself a cup of steaming coffee before taking her plate from Bellamy. 

“We don’t quite have your design ready, but we thought we’d stop by and show our support.” 

“Well it’s certainly appreciated.” He smiles at both of them. Watches as Abby looks back over her shoulder as Clarke walks in and steals half of Raven’s pancakes and a kiss. 

“Clarke’s really excited to vote for someone who’s so passionate about LGBT issues. We all are really.” Abby glances at Bellamy and back toward Marcus. 

“It’s really close to our heart here, we’re glad to have your support.”

“Listen, Marcus, why don’t you stop by on Monday afternoon? We should have something ready for you by then.” Bellamy nods at Abby’s look for confirmation as she sips at her coffee. 

“See you then.” 

Abby and Bellamy join the rest of their group and Marcus tries not to let his curiosity and excitement distract him from doing his actual job. 

“Who’s the hunk?” Raven asks as they sit down, gesturing toward Marcus looking every bit the dreamy poly-sci major turned bearded campaign manager he is with the sleeves of his pink button down rolled up, shaking hands and working the crowd. 

“New client?” Clarke asks around a mouthful of pancakes and syrup. 

“Chew your food, Clarke. And yes. And an old friend.” Abby can’t hide the slight smile on her face. She’d been fond of him in college, but seeing him now is like seeing every one of her fantasies come to life. 

“Careful Bellamy, your girl’s going full heart eyes at this one. Old friend or old flame Abby?” Clarke smacks Raven’s arm and Octavia mimes vomiting her pancakes back onto her plate. They're all aware of the relationship between Abby and Bellamy, though they don't often talk about it. Abby makes Bellamy feel loved and cared for, and he makes her feel alive again.

“Just a friend, Raven.”

“If you say so, Doc. Sure is pretty though.” And with that Raven goes back to teasing Clarke and filling her face with pancakes. 

Abby looks at Bellamy beside her and he smiles his hand resting heavy on her thigh under the table, his thumb stroking back and forth. He doesn’t mind the heart eyes, he has them too.

* * *

 

“It’s...big.” Marcus’ eyes are wide as he looks at the design Bellamy hands him.

“Yes.” 

“But the lines are nice. I like the detail, but where would it even fit? I don’t really want to have it on my back, I wouldn’t be able to look at it.”

Abby glances a Bellamy and smirks. 

“Well, we thought your upper thigh would be good. Then you don’t have to worry about covering it, and it’s in a place you can see, and the thigh has a bit thicker skin than most other places on your body. The needle won’t sting quite as much as if we were to do say, your forearm.” 

Marcus thinks about it for a minute, she makes an excellent point. He gets a little hung up on logistics. 

“I’d have to take my pants off, right?” 

This time Bellamy replies. “Well you don’t seem like the type to own booty shorts, so yes, if you go with the thigh we’d need you to take them off.” 

“And which one of you is actually going to be holding the needle?” Marcus tenses at the thought. He’s going to go through with it, but it doesn’t stop him being nervous. 

“Well actually, we’d both be doing parts of it. See the center piece with the realism in the tree, and the watercolor in the leaves? That’s Abby’s specialty. The lines and the geometry around it are mine.” Bellamy’s smile is self depreciating in a way that is entirely too attractive. 

“Oh.” Marcus had been expecting Bellamy to be there too, he’s been a apart of everything they’ve done so far, but he'd thought the actual tattooing would be done entirely by Abby. “Can I see some of your other work, both of you, I mean?”

The next thing he knows Bellamy’s shirt is on the floor. On his chest, right over where his heart would actually be, is an anatomical heart, with flowers growing out of the ventricles and a blue butterfly in the central chamber. It’s beautiful, and Marcus can’t stop himself from tracing his fingers over the bold lines and soft colors. 

“Beautiful,” Marcus mutters as his fingers brush past the pebbled skin of Bellamy’s nipple. “You did this?” 

Abby nods seeing both genuine appreciation and attraction in Marcus’ eyes. 

“And has he done any of yours?”

“Yes,” Abby pulls the hem of her shirt from her jeans and slides her hands up her torso, underneath the lace of her bra. 

Marcus immediately recognizes the smattering delicate lines and twinkling representations of stars as the constellation Ophiuchus. He traces the thin black lines between her breasts with the same reverence that he’d shown the ink on Bellamy’s chest. 

“The healer?” he asks, already knowing her answer. 

“Yes.” She breathes in a whisper as his hand slips away and she lets her shirt fall back into place. 

He wants to ask them both about every tattoo on each of their bodies, he wants to learn the lines and the reasons behind each of them. He wants to trace the delicate designs with his tongue and hands. 

“Alright then. Let’s do it.” 

Bellamy makes no move to put his shirt back on and makes his way over to look at the calendar at the counter where Marcus had first seen him. “We could do it Friday, schedule it late so you don’t have to miss work and you’d have the weekend to heal before hitting the campaign trail again?”

“Sounds perfect. I’ll see you both then.” It’s late and he really should be getting home. Everyone else has already left the parlor and if he stays any longer in their orbit with Bellamy’s shirtless chest and arms and Abby’s searching eyes calling to him he won’t be able to leave. 

“See you then, Marcus.” Abby smiles, hopeful as he walks away. Bellamy writes his name into the calendar for 9 o’clock Friday evening and Marcus walks out the door.

* * *

 

Abby locks the door behind Marcus and turns back to look at Bellamy. 

“You felt it too didn’t you?”

He’s on her in moments, crossing the room in long strides to get to her. She can feel him, half hard through his jeans and breathing heavy. 

“God yes.”

She reaches back and dims the lights low as he picks her up and carries her to his station setting her down in the chair they’ll use to work on Marcus at the end of the week. Later he’ll take her upstairs, later she’ll ride him until he can’t see straight and they’ll fall asleep under the lights of the city streaming in from the floor to ceiling windows, tangled together in his white sheets. But right now he needs to taste her. 

His hands bump against hers as they fumble with the button of her jeans. In the end she lets him handle it and lifts her hips as he slides both her pants and underwear to the floor. He grabs her behind her knees, sliding her to the edge of the chair and starts kissing up the length of her thigh. 

“So, did you fuck him in college?” 

She gasps as he blows air across her wet pussy, cool in contrast to the ever building heat, and she buries her hands in his messy hair.

“No, I thought about it, once or twice. There was always a tension, nothing like it is now though.”

Bellamy licks a line up her center, her hands flexing in his hair. 

“Do you want to fuck him now?” He sucks her clit into his mouth swirling circles with his tongue.

“Yes,” she gasps. Her back arching up off the table. “Do you?”

“I want him to fuck me.” 

“ _Jesus Christ, Bellamy_.” Her hips buck against his face. “I need... _ Bellamy _ ...your fingers.” 

He slides two fingers deep inside her and crooks them upward while his tongue plays wetly at her clit. She clenches around him hard at the idea of watching Bellamy let Marcus have his ass. He’s given it to her before, let her pound into him from behind as he gasps into the pillows and cries out for more. But it’s something entirely different to think about watching him with Marcus. 

“Oh God, Bellamy, I’m gonna,” her hands tighten in his hair and she lets out a high pitched whine, her hips grinding against his face as he moves his fingers in and out of her, increasing his pace. 

“I’m coming, fuck Bellamy, I’m coming.” He sucks at her clit, thrusting his fingers deep inside her and stroking at her the soft, spongy flesh as she rides out her orgasm. 

When she’s through the last of the aftershocks he pulls his hand out and lets her pull his fingers into her mouth. Groaning as she licks them clean. 

He tosses her jeans over his shoulder and tucks her underwear into his back pocket. They’ll worry about his shirt and her shoes in the morning, for now he pulls her out of the chair and lifts her small frame over his other shoulder hooking his arm behind her knees. He laughs as she swats at his ass and lets him carry her upstairs where they’ll talk about all the things they’d love to do to Marcus and what they’d die for him to do to each of them. They know he’s interested, but they won’t press him. 

If he wants them both he’ll have them, all he has to do is ask. 

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW I AM THE WORST, PART TWO IS COMING AND SO IS MARCUS I SWEAR TO GOD.


End file.
